


You are beautiful because you will die

by Keepoffthegrass



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:17:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepoffthegrass/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: Bond is a vampire and is drawn to Q because of his fragile mortality.





	You are beautiful because you will die

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! Have a vampire fic...
> 
> Hope you are all having a nice day x

It was no Anne Rice style, glamorous quasi- tragic mystery. He hadn't been 'wondering the earth for centuries, doomed to watch everyone around him grow old and die'  
Bond had been a vampire for some 6 or 7 years; the pros (or should that be cons? Wether it was a blessing or a curse depended on his mood) of sometimes having to work in rural old countries, countries that knew the things in the shadows in ways those cosmopolitan urban areas, one's who rushed headfirst into the future and tourism, couldn't even dream of, and of innocent sheltered country girls who fell hard for his golden hair and ice eyes, and foolishly believed themselves to be in love.

He discovered, disappointingly, that it was nothing like the movies, although it was much harder to become truly injured, and worse of all, unless he had fed on one inebriated, it was impossible to get drunk! (Which left him dangerously down a coping mechanism)

It was true however that he didn't need to breathe and he was cold to the touch, had no vital life signs.  
These things seemed to be hidden from observation by something like a Harry Potter charm- as long as he was well and in control, no one noticed anything... which was fine and dandy, and very useful when an enemy thought you were already dead, less so when you are minding your own business and your bed partner is screaming because you have no heart beat

At least his line of work provided him with plenty of food.

***

He had noticed it from the very first time they met of course, but then it was covered by nerves and a rehearsed professionalism and the sheer youth of his new quartermaster.  
As time went on however it became clear that Q was the most alive and human of everyone in MI6, where everyone had a hard cold edge, and even gentle Tanner exuded a well worn jadedness.  
This made him achingly fragile and endlessly fascinating; Bond wasn't much interested in men and wouldn't be into Q even if he were, but yet he found himself going down to Q branch just to watch him, drinking in details he didn't realise he cared about: the soothing rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the fact said breath told him that he had honey in his earl grey, the breakable lines of his slender frame, the heavy tiredness when he had worked too long...he had once made the mistake of standing too close behind him, and like a snake in the sun had moved even closer when he discovered how very warm Q was.  
The young quartermaster had practically jumped out of his skin and muttered something about personal boundaries, but like cats and heat seeking missiles, Bond was now never far from him.

It was all desperately pathetically mortal and Bond thought it beautiful.

***

"Do you have anything for me this time 007?" Q pushed his glasses up with a sigh as he gave Bond a look that plainly said he doubted it, and really why did he go through this charade every time Bond came back from a mission?

Bond stared at the pulse throbbing in his neck, at the shiver of his shirt that was his heart yearning to be free, and thought I could break you. I could break you and time will break you. 

***

Bond sometimes dreamt about Q, or mostly day dreamed as he lay in bed unable to sleep.  
He wondered if they should have sex but thought not, he was quite content for the moment with things they way they were.  
He sometimes thought about what he would do if Q were dying; would he change him so he survived? But then everything that Bond loved about him would cease to be. No, he would let him pass. He would take his life for him so he wouldn't suffer. Even injured Bond imagined he would struggle, a bit, and the thought always made him hard.

***

Bond watched Q work, typing faster then he would have believed possible before he had met the quartermaster. Q was far too engrossed to pay him any attention so Bond let his mind wander.  
He was contemplating breaking in to Q's home, watching him sleep, listening to his heart, finding all the places that are the warmest and most paper thin... looking at him in five years time, ten, noting the changes... perhaps they should have sex after all Bond mused, then he could crawl inside his skin, get so close that perhaps he could feel the echo of Q's heart in his own chest....

Q stepped back and almost fell over Bond. He whipped around but what ever he was going to say died on his lips as he saw Bond's expression.

"What on earth are you thinking about?! On second thoughts I don't think I want to know!"

Bond blinked slowly and then grinned just as slow.  
It did nothing for Q's confused unease.

"I read this thing in a self help book, but a proper psychology one" Bond said "As a way of getting close to someone so they feel closer to you, etc etc. You offer to read their palm" He grabbed Q's right hand and held it palm up, resisting the urge to stroke over the blue green veins on his skinny wrist.

"I don't think it would ever be useful to you Bond, your marks aren't generally the hippy types, nor do I see that being your preference in your personal life either" Q tried to remove his hand and failed, as he failed to control the shiver caused by Bond's touch on his sensitive palm.

"You have callouses, I would never have expected that" Bond let go, genuinely surprised.

Q scoffed "Sorry to disappoint you. I may not be firing guns but I handle them, not to mention I'm always typing. I'm only human"

"I'm aware. And you never disappoint me Q"

***

Not long after that incident, Q got to go in the field with the infamous 007. Of course it wasn't dangerous for him but it had ended badly for 007, who if a bad guy didn't show up soon, probably wouldn't make it.

"Bond! You're freezing, why didn't you tell me you were so badly hurt? Where's the bloody radio?!" Q sank to his heels beside Bond and started going through his pockets for the radio.

"I really need you not to have destroyed something for once" 

He leaned over Bond, all that delicious warmth like a blanket, smelling of honeyed tea and guns and a simple clean soap, and Bond, like the serpent under the innocent flower, struck.

Q gasped, the same sound Bond imagined he would make if they had slept together. At first he was rigidly still, as though his brain was trying to understand what was happening, but then survival instincts kicked in and he squirmed and wriggled desperately.  
Bond reversed their position and leaned over Q until he was on his back and Bond loomed over him.  
Q pounded on Bond's chest, fighting harder than he thought he would have. Bond came in his pants like a teenager and bit down harder.  
He failed to notice Q's struggle growing weaker and slower until they stopped altogether.

"I can explain Q" Bond spoke hesitantly, quickly wiping his mouth with a hand.  
"Q? Q? No no no..."

His quartermaster was still, the lightest olive skin already deathly white from blood loss, glassy eyes vacant but to Bond the green was accusing, one hand still in a fist, the other by his side, fingers wrapped tight around the radio.

Bond blinked back the prickling of tears and forced himself into mission mode. MI6 would believe the unfortunate death of their quartermaster, but the lack of blood would raise questions...he jerked his head up at the sound of a bell and a bleat, remembering the goats he had seen on the mountain where they currently resided.

He cradled Q's body and started cutting his throat, the absence of blood making it seem like carving a turkey. He bit back a sob as he apologized over and over.

He dispatched a goat the same way, getting the blood down Q's front, and smearing some on his own hands and the wet patch on his grey trousers. It would look odd but he was counting on most people thinking he had wiped his hands on them.

He prised the radio from Q and called in evac  
"Mission compromised, Q dead. I repeat the quartermaster is dead. He was trying to protect me, he was protecting me..."


End file.
